


Taste

by Janecat



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, one sided brujay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janecat/pseuds/Janecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason’s lips buzz with warmth, gravel digs into his knees through his pants and he can barely breathe anything besides Tommy’s scent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste

Jason’s lips buzz with warmth, gravel digs into his knees through his pants and he can barely breathe anything besides Tommy’s scent. It’s distracting in a way, ways he doesn’t want to explain, the illusions he’s tricking himself into. How he wonders if Bruce is this thick when he’s hard or if he’s even larger. Would he stretch his lips, wear out his mouth, make his eyes roll when he slips down his throat? How would Bruce react to Jason’s tongue teasing his leaking slit or lapping at his head like it was best sucker in all of Gotham? 

He knows what Tommy likes, a glimmer of pain and a nonexistent gag reflex. Tommy curls his fingers in Jason’s hair tight enough he feels a few strands pull away. He’s unforgiving in his movements, thrusting into Jason’s mouth rather than giving him any option to bob his head. Tommy fucks his mouth so fast he can’t even breathe and when he buries himself down Jason’s throat he knows the only thing keeping him from slumping backward is Tommy’s strong hands holding the back of his head. 

Tommy drags himself out, come sliding down the side of Jason’s mouth brushed onto his lips by a gloved thumb. He licks his lips and lets the idea of what Bruce might taste like play through his head for just a moment. Tommy adjusts himself and Jason slowly gets on his feet, he leans back against the brick like his legs aren’t jelly and watches the other man hop a fire escape up and out of the alley. Jason runs a hand through his hair and sighs roughly, letting the hand slip down into his pants. His throat is sore, his lips almost numb, but his senses are clear, he can allow himself one more illusion. He imagines a looming shadow, the flap of a heavy cape being left here not by Tommy, but by the man wearing the cowl.


End file.
